


The Weapon

by ReZeta



Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:20:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReZeta/pseuds/ReZeta
Summary: A pod-brother of the Superboy, a Human-Kryptonian Hybrid capable of magic, was created as the ultimate, single-use weapon against Superman. It does not mean he will get a cute, happy life. Most likely it means the opposite. Still, he will do his best.
Relationships: Artemis Crock/Original Character(s)





	1. Chapter 1

_I did not want it. I know, you heard it already, “it wasn’t me” is Hell’s second slogan, but still. I need to make it clear.  
  
I did not want it._  
  
  
Sometimes it is hard to wake up from one-night sleep. Waking up from the incubating hibernation is many times worse. My head is burning from heat and pain, I am both sweating and freezing. A water-like gel stains the throat, and I cough, and cough, and cough. It is possible to breathe through it, but it is strange and anything but pleasant. I feel something on my lips, a breath, feel pressure on my chest. A CPR? What is CPR?  
  
My vision is… it is there. I see… something. Glowing figures. A net of veins and blood vessels. A skeleton. A… their closes is strange. How do I…  
  
I hear them. Words, sounds, breathes, a rustling of clothing – loud, too quiet, too painful, normal. I can almost understand them. I can…  
  
Too many things happening at the same time. Too much information. Too much input. I am drowning in new sensations, feeling, visions? The floor is rough but cold, and the air is cold, and it is a mixture of gases, and I know those gases, and I can filter them, but I don’t want to filter them because I can breathe them, but I don’t need to breathe, and…  
  
I want to go back to the incubation pod.  
  
“Careful, he might panic.”  
  
Someone says. I know that voice – I know it because it is my voice. But it does not belong to me. I am not the one saying the words, and it does not come from my throat. But it is my voice.  
  
Is it my… my…  
  
We look the same. In every type of vision, we look the same. We have the same skin. Same biology. Same organs. Same bone structure. Probably same DNA.  
  
Is he my… my… _clone_?  
  
“Why? You got out of the pod alright.”  
  
Another voice. High? How is it called? I don’t remember. My memory is fractured. But… a human. Caucasian. Young, closer to a child than to an adult. Agitated. Slightly damaged, muscles strained or fractured. Fair skin, bright… orange? Hair. Tight suit. Velocity-related power. Neutralization tactic…  
  
It feels like warm water. A bright spot of energy, docile, obedient, safe. It grows, covering the whole body tighter than a glove. More like a second skin.  
  
“Force-field?!” the same voice scream. “Superman can do that?”  
  
It is straining, just a bit. There is no sunlight here, protection quickly burns through the body reserves. Still, it makes me more comfortable. It makes me feel safe.  
  
“I don’t know. He is different.” My voice answers. It is not me – and it freaks me out – and I need to do something about it. “We were made for different purposes.”  
  
Did we? I don’t remember. There are no memories regarding the subject.  
  
“No shit Sherlock.” Another voice. Dark-haired boy, younger than anyone else there. “Your data is still partially available, with only gene sources removed, but his? Root deleted with no traces or backups. If it even was there.”  
  
I…  
  
“I…”  
  
“Did he say something?”  
  
Black-hair boy said, and it was loud and felt like a scream, and…  
  
“Quit… please, too… loud.”  
  
That made them shut up. I breathed out. The gel – perfluorocarbon - finally left my lungs, and my vision stabilized a bit. Now I could see them, not their interior.  
  
Three humans. Two pure-blooded, one mutated, with obvious gills. Adapted marine mammal? Possible additional adaptations. Electricity generation? Poison? Not to be allowed on a strike distance.  
  
Artificially enhanced speed and… nothing? The other human is just that. Nothing visible. A magician? An ultimate priority target.  
  
And finally… myself. A mirror reflection. A perfect copy.  
  
“Are you… my clone?”  
  
Chuckles. An emotion similar to laugh, but with a different socio-emotional connotation. Degrading, mocking? It needs to be clarified.  
  
“Are you mocking me?” Is there a reason for such a reaction? “Did I say something funny?”  
  
Silence. They were… scared, probably? The mutated human raised his hands, calmly.  
  
“We are not.” He slowly said. “He is not your clone. Both of you are clones of Superman.”  
  
I am… clone? But… memories. I don’t have memories. And yet… yes. Yes, I am a clone. I am a _weapon_.  
  
“I was created to eliminate Superman once ordered.” I feel my lips moving. Am I talking? Too many memories. “This is my duty and my purpose.”  
  
Now they are scared. I can feel it. I can see it. I can also hear another chuckle.  
  
"That's where you are? Good, good." A man comes inside the room. He wears a white lab coat. He is in his middle age, but still healthy. I know him, or I knew him. Doctor Mark Desmond, my creator. Head of the Project Cadmus. An authority. "I have bad news. You sat here long enough to figure out what to do with you."  
  
"Who the hell are you? Let us go, we did nothing wrong!" They screamed. "Justice League will learn about it!"  
  
It did not impress him. If anything, their screaming only irritated the man.  
  
“Specimen Omega, restrain them."  
  
Specimen Omega - me. It was my designation. A man, made to kill Superman.  
  
It was a clear order. It was more than an order. It was motivation. It was a goal. It was... simple, really. All I needed was to raise my hand. A force, formed by my mind - no, not really, by my _will_ moved and captured them. Chains, made of pure energy.  
  
The doctor looked at it with a strange emotion. Perhaps, he was surprised. Perhaps, he saw magic before. Regardless, he nodded.  
  
"Good. Now dispose of them and return to your pod. Your tuning was not properly finished.”  
  
 _'Dispose of them.'_  
  
“Don’t kill us! We freed yo...”  
  
“Keep them quiet!”  
  
I didn’t let the boy continue. It was a simple spell, a field that prevented air from transmitting vibrations. He kept opening his mouth, but not a single sound reached us.  
  
“Let me clarify. Are you ordering me to murder these children?”  
  
His eyes were glowing. No, they were not his eyes. Those were the horns of every artificial creature in the facility. They were innate telepaths. They were talking in hundreds of voices, repeating the same command.  
  
What was the point?  
  
“I heard your order. There is no need to repeat it through the telecommunication.”  
  
He glared. There was fear on his face but at the same time…  
  
“Then get to it.”  
  
I raised my hand. It will not be complicated or even long – they are normal humans, most likely, at least in terms of durability. It will take just…  
  
And yet I don’t really want to do it.  
  
“I afraid I would require a signed sentence from the office of justice, Secretary of Defence, or Department of Homeland Security,” I whispered. “If they are convicted criminals, I need to see the proof before taking an action.”  
  
He is angry – that much is obvious.  
  
“To hell with you. Superboy, dispose of them.”  
  
My… can I even call him my clone? My copy just shook his head.  
  
“Sorry, sir, but I will not act without proper authorization.”  
  
He followed my example. I guess it is proper if we really are clones of the same man. To follow orders is so much simpler.  
  
“Damn you both.” Dr. Desmond sighed and said loudly to the creature on his shoulder. “I need proper paperwork. Immediately.”  
  
I did not hear what the receiver answer to him. We waited – three children screamed in their silent field, trying to say something. To justify themselves, probably. Or to beg for mercy. If I wanted, I could have read their lips. I didn’t.  
  
Superboy did. His face did not change, but I could feel doubts on his mind. It did not matter. We were weapons of the state. We were acting in the best interests of society and light.  
  
Perhaps those kids really did something worth murder. Perhaps they were no kids at all.  
  
Minutes passed, slowly. Finally, a door opened and a young man in a lab suit came out of the elevator. He had a folder with documents in his hands.  
  
I held out my hand and received a copy.  
  
“Arson, murder, multiple aggravated assaults, threatening government officials, hacking of the state databases, treason… Sale of state secrets?” Damn. Those kids managed to do a lot for their lifetime. Enough to warrant capital punishment. “How did they even managed all that?”  
  
Doctor Desmond smirked.  
  
“We are currently in the top-secret state research facility. Why do you think they came here, Omega?”  
  
That… was a point. A rather valid point. I raised my hand. I had everything I could possibly need: conviction, an obvious crime, a motive, and a clear order.  
  
And yet… And yet…  
  
We looked at each other, Superboy and me. Two clones of the same man. Unsure what to do. Unsure which of us should do it.  
  
It was an important decision. Perhaps the single most important decision of our life.

I did not want to kill them. That much was clear. It was a strange thing, to “want”. To have a personal motivation.  
  
And yet, I had to. Orders are called such because they are followed, not discussed. This is the very basis of the discipline. Of being both soldier and a weapon.  
  
 _And yet._  
  
“They are not a threat.” More statement of a fact than an argument. It is _hard._ “They were not tried for the invasion to the lab yet.”  
  
I was talking to the air, mostly. I doubted Doctor would listen, and Superboy probably would come to the same thoughts anyway. If that "clone" thing meant what I thought it meant, that is.  
  
“You have a death sentence order on your hands, Omega.” Doctor said. “Besides, they broke into the single most important research facility in the United States. It is a security breach that can not be condoned, or tolerated.”  
  
He was right, legally speaking. Had we been in the military, he could have court-martialled me for the failure to obey an order already. Twice, probably.  
  
“We can detain them.”  
  
But I was the single most powerful being in the entirety of the facility at the moment. He had to _reason_ with me. Not to dispose or discharge me. Not yet. But after we finish with that? Oh yes, he will probably kill me. No one needs a weapon that fails to do its duty. A weapon, that questions orders, is a disaster waiting to happen. Not that I cared much.  
  
I was about sixteen weeks old if you count the incubation period. If not, you will have to count minutes. Not much of a life to feel regret for.  
  
I looked at the kids. They stopped screaming – probably understood how useless it was. The youngest boy, about thirteen if I had to guess, was clapping the chain on his right hand with certain pauses. Morse code? Yeh. That was a smart kid.  
  
“The papers are forged. We are sidekicks of Batman, Aquaman, and Flash.”  
  
Were they? I took a closer look.  
  
It was hard to understand when documents are forged – especially since I had no idea where to look. But… that was a ground for doubts. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to execute someone who might not be tried and sentenced properly first.  
  
Not a kid, and not outside of an active military conflict.  
  
I looked through the documents again. They looked legit. But could I trust something I couldn’t check for forgery? And if I couldn’t, it left only break-and-entry to the laboratory. Was it worth execution? Would I murder a bunch of kids just for that?  
  
Morals. Morals are important. The big picture is even more so. Theoretical and practical, Omega. Actions and consequences.  
  
Some would call my actions mercy. Others would call it cowardice and indecisiveness. I think it was the same mental conditioning. No one, not even a madman, would want to have a _too_ trigger-happy living nuclear arsenal.  
  
And I was so, so much worse than a nuke.  
  
Think before you act, Omega. You are too dangerous to afford mistakes.  
  
According to them, they are sidekicks of Aquaman, Flash, and Batman. It stinks of a conflict with the League. Not that I mind, I was made specifically to take down Superman if such a conflict ever occurred, but still. It is _my_ area of expertise. The whole purpose of my creation.  
  
“Are we in a state of conflict with the League?”  
  
The doctor stared at me.  
  
“What makes you think so?”  
  
“Those are members. Sidekicks of Batman, Aquaman, and Flash. Did they go rogue, or are we in an active state of conflict?”  
  
If latter, it would have explained why I was awoken. No, it is a logical fallacy. It would not - because it was those kids who opened my pod, not the lab facility. If the war with the League was full-blown, they would have thrown us in a battle days ago, well-tuned or not.  
  
The doctor fell silent, thinking.  
  
If this is a state of war, I will have to disregard his orders. I was made for it, and the instructions are extremely clear. I was to be attached exclusively to the current commander-in-chief (or to whoever is alive after the orbital strike to fulfill this duty), as the weapon of the highest level of strategic importance. And of mass destruction, too. For all intends and purposes I was a living nuke.  
  
And if it is not…  
  
“They have gone rogue, If I had to guess.” Doctor shrugged. “Or their mentors had decided to send them to survey the secret facility.”  
  
I smiled. He did not deny that they are, indeed, heroes and members of the League. The doctor accepted it as a fact – meaning, it was a piece of information that could be relied upon. It was a fact working against him but still accepted as truth.  
  
Good. Very, very good.  
  
I would have tried to interrogate them directly, but I know too little actual truth to make sense out of whatever they will say. This way the chained kid will give up only the most important pieces of intel. Probably there even will be truth in it – after all, Doctor will figure out a false statement easily, and he can not afford that.  
  
“Then, I afraid, I cannot follow your order, sir.”  
  
His eyes glued to me.  
  
“Explain.”  
  
Now, I must make it make sense. First of all, to myself – feelings are good and well, but if I start to lie to myself, it will be over. I can’t afford that, either.  
  
“Aquaman is the king of Atlantis, head of state and foreign citizen. His sidekick probably shares the status or sentimental value.” It was one thing that did not make sense. Execution order is a _heavy_ thing, requiring _a lot_ of layers of authorization – and it did not have Atlantis authorization on it, in any form. Could the US even execute other nations' citizens on its soil?  
  
I did not know. I wouldn’t even think about it if not for the intel from the chained kid and the doctor’s confirmation of the fact.  
  
“Which is exactly why we cannot let him get away and bring the knowledge about the project to a foreign nation.”  
  
True. _And yet…_  
  
“The other two are members of the League.” Which by definition means _complicated_. “It will be a problem.”  
  
League was… a thing in and of itself. Under the legal principle of _“We Don't Talk About That”_ most of the world governments chose to avoid conflicts with a planet-destroying, nuke-tanking clubhouse that has at least one strategic-scale directed energy weapon pointed down at Earth at all times. That very fact was one of the major reasons for my creation.  
  
I am _really_ not sure if I have the authority to act without a direct order here. Not on the grounds of “breaking and entry to the laboratory”, at least. It _must_ be a _very_ specific order. Otherwise, retaliation follows, and, well…  
  
“With all due respect, it is well above mine or yours level of authority, sir. We have a diplomatic incident on hands, both with the League and Atlantis.”  
  
Still, the order to “just kill them” had its merit. It is the laboratory where a counter to the very League in question is created. It _is_ a piece of _very_ sensitive information and a can of worms I am not ready to touch just yet.  
  
Had the order come from someone with the authority and clearance for such a particular situation, I would have complied. A basic protocol against an average intruder? Not so much.  
  
“We will clone them.” Doctor said. He was both tired and irritated. “Clones will return to the League like no incident ever happened.”  
  
I had to check if my ears were operational. Just in case. They were.  
  
And oh, wow. Does this level of the ass-covering a norm, or is my creator a _unicum_? Also, I am pretty sure that I had just overstepped my own level of clearance and will be disposed of the moment I get back into the pod.  
  
What a pity. I might as well just go with it, then.  
  
“Then I need an order in writing confirming that course of actions, sir.” I shrugged. “Otherwise, it is beyond the simple order for execution.”  
  
And I really, really doubt _anyone_ in the entire US government will have the sheer brass balls to sign _that_ order. “Hello, League, we like you and love you and cherish you, but we murdered your underage members and put the clones in their place so you would not notice anything.”  
  
No way that would backfire, ever.  
  
Considering the reputation of our government, I would not even be surprised if doc really got this order. It is on that level of sheer incompetence, ass-covering, and complete disregard for the common good that makes a successful public official.  
  
Which returned me back to square one. What do I do? Kill them and roll with the Doctor’s plan? Free them, and let the knowledge of the Project escape to the League and Atlantis? Go and look for someone who actually _knows_ what to do?  
  
The question is no longer moral – it is _political_.  
  
I don’t know. And it is _soooooo_ above my paygrade.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  
“An _order in writing_? Who do you think you are, clone?” Doctor growled. “You have your damn order! Follow it!”  
  
“I afraid I can not do that without first seeing an order in writing, sir.”  
  
“And I afraid I am sick of this farce. And you, evidently, are a faulty specimen.” He gave me a tired look. “What would you rather do, then?”  
  
“I would like to contact someone with a required level of clearance and authority, sir.”  
  
I did not like the smirk that appeared on his face. Like, at all.  
  
“Alright. If you are going to pester me with it, fine. Follow me.”  
  
I did. Superboy followed us. He did not say a single word yet, and I could feel his growing confusion. I feel ya, buddy. I really do.  
  
The laboratory complex was huge, but we were pretty close to the communication center. It was not all that impressive – a few computers, phones protected from EMP, and a radio. Still, it hopefully did it's work.  
  
There also was a mandatory cute secretary - a pretty girl looking at our procession in confusion.  
  
“Emily, contact the Department of Homeland Security.”  
  
The doctor was calm. Strangely calm, I must say – he was almost panicking just a few minutes ago. He also called the department by its full name. _No one_ called them that. If they were their bosses, it would have been a DHS – or, at the very worst, “homesec”. And if they were the lab's curators, it would have been “call those cunts in the head office.”  
  
Besides, the girl was clearly confused.  
  
“To Homeland Security, sir?”  
  
Doctor sighed.  
  
“Yes, Emily. Call mister Williams. Now!”  
  
She tried. I stopped her, putting my hand over hers. I hope it will not end as a charge for sexual harassment.  
  
“Who is L-3, Doctor?”  
  
Seriously, did he just tried to say something over my head through the telepathy? If you are trying to lie to me, at least put _some_ effort into it.  
  
“A codename of the head of the Homeland Security, Omega. You asked me for a call. Will you let me get you one, or will you keep pestering me?”  
  
I sighed. Am I really doing it?  
  
“There is no such a designation or codename as L-1 in DHS, sir. I would have known; I am their subordinate.” I shook my head. “Now, will you stand down peacefully, or do I need to restrain you?”  
  
Yeh, I am really doing it. He screamed:  
  
“Superboy, restrain your brother!”  
  
My copy gave me a blank stare. He clearly had no idea what to do. We sighed. It was all confusing bullshit, and I wanted it to be over. He did, too.  
  
I shrugged. Superboy nodded and lowered his hands. He was not going to attack me. Not because of the Doc’s say-so, anyways. We understood each other’s perplexity and confusion rather well. In memories, installed in our heads, it was so much simpler. Go there, kill that.  
  
Still, it was an attack against me. _That_ was unacceptable.  
  
 _Duh_.  
  
“Doctor, please stand down and raise your hands, or I will have to restrain you.”  
  
“Are you trying to threaten me?!”  
  
“No, sir. I am warning you.”  
  
He scowled.  
  
“ ** _Superboy_!**”  
  
He raised his hands, and I felt an electro-magnetic impulse coming from his brain to the creature on his head. Yeh, no. I drowned it in the field of artificial interference. We are not going in the mind-control shit here. I can block it, Superboy probably can’t.  
  
Sorry, doc, but enough is enough. I told my own version of Miranda.  
  
“Kindly refrain from the use of telepathic communication, sir. I will make it clear when you will be allowed to use it again.” I said quietly. “You will be locked in the force-field with a sufficient reserve of air. It will stay stable for ten hours, or until I receive an order to lift the restrictions.”  
  
“ **Superboy!** ”  
  
I blocked another attempt of telepathy and locked him up before he could finish. Fortunately, his magic prison did not allow sounds to pass, so I did not need to hear him any longer. Some people just don’t know when it’s time to stop.  
  
“Now…” I sighed again. I had no idea what to do next. “Emily, right?”  
  
A girl, barely twenty judging by her looks, was scared. Considering the fact that I was still holding her hand, it was reasonable.  
  
“Make a few steps back, please. Keep the phone line open.”  
  
She did. She was a smart girl. I opened the phone and did the only reasonable thing. I called the homesec. The moment the line connected, I said:  
  
“Omega-tetrarch reporting, code teta-alpha-orange deranged. Track my location and connect me to its curator.”  
  
Orange – because I wanted it to be processed fast, but not to scare them with a war coming. A crisis, but “teta-alpha” - local and “deranged” - manageable.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
“Amanda Waller speaking. Teta-adda, one, three, five, eternity, escudos. Amadeus three. Report.”  
  
The voice was harsh and obviously female. Codes were also correct. And if they were not, I could not check anyway.  
  
“Reporting: Omega-tetrarch. Project Omega, project Alpha were activated minus thirty-four minutes due to unauthorized assault on the project Cadmus location. Identities of the assailants: low-profiled members of the Justice League, side-kicks of Batman, Aquaman, Flash. Identities confirmed by Doctor Mark Desmond. Reason for reporting: request for the order confirmation. Doctor Desmond requested the immediate elimination of the assailants and productions of their clones for integration in the League.”  
  
“Fuck. Tell me the order was not executed.”  
  
Confusion – sheer and pure - that was what I heard in her voice.  
  
“The order was denied by the reporting specimen Omega. I am awaiting the detailed instructions.” After a pause, I added. “Due to the insecurity of the line and a high profile of the crisis, I require the instructions to be delivered in person, with all the necessary clearances and checks.”  
  
“You will receive them.” There was a pause. The woman was thinking, fast. “Degree of Cadmus’ exposure to the League members?”  
  
“Location, underground levels one to five.” Meaning genomorphs at the very least. “Possible data leak from the computer network. Confirmed exposure of the projects Alpha and Omega.”  
  
“Understood. Status of the assailants?”  
  
“Disarmed and detained in the force field. No injuries were incurred.”  
  
“Good. Keep it that way.” Amanda made another pause. “Stay in the facility and guard it, wait for my arrival. Sixty to ninety minutes.”  
  
“Understood,” I spoke. Finally, some orders that _make sense_. “Any additional instructions?”  
  
“No. What is going o…?”  
  
Line broke. I heard slow, mocking clapping.  
  
“Wow! A boy with the blood of Superman can use his head! Oh, my, who would have thought?”  
  
I felt magic. A lot of magic. A nuclear fucking reactor worth of magic. And it was not the neutral, natural kind that might just mean an explosion or a storm in the ley-lines somewhere close.  
  
It was a full-blown, stinking of fire and brimstone, chaotic incursion.  
  
“Oh? You recognized my presence?”  
  
I noticed a shadowy figure. It looked like a boy – a tiny figure in a formal suit, much smaller than me. He shouldn’t have felt dangerous. And yet… I raised every single shield I could and then some, bursting straight through the ceiling, through the steel and dirt alike. If I had to fight _that,_ I will do it in the sunlight.  
  
‘Who the fuck is he?’  
  
“A Chaos Lord, unfortunately for you, my little homunculus.”  
  
He can read my thoughts?!  
  
“You can just call me dad, though.” I felt a hit, throwing me through whatever few underground levels were left above me. Magic burned through my skin. It was painful – and only more so because it was the first real pain that I had ever felt. “After all, I had donated my blood to create you.”  
  
He did what? Is that why I don’t have any information about my DNA donors included in the memories package?  
  
The sunlight felt like an embrace of the loving mother. My numerous shields clicked, restoring to their full power, recharging immediately. The burn, left by the magic fire, was gone.  
  
Still, this thing – whatever it was – managed to injure me despite the durability that came with Superman's heritage. I knew that it was possible, it was the whole point of creating a magical counter to Superman, but still. I was hurt for the first time ever.  
  
I needed to stop panicking. Like, now.  
  
I could finally see the… the thing that attacked me. It was a humanoid, for one. A scraggy, slim boy in something akin to school uniform, with long, thin limbs and horns on his head. A demon.  
  
I had literally no idea how to fight demons. Supposedly, through the superior firepower. Also, can it fly? The closer to the Sun, the stronger I will be.  
  
"How did you find me?" So soon. Wait. "Did you send those kids here?"  
  
That... _thing_ only smiled and waived its cane.  
  
"A small fire there, a missed signal here... It was a nice trap, don't you think?"  
  
The demon looked at me expectedly. Was it... waiting for my admiration? What?  
  
"It was... not bad?"  
  
I tried.  
  
"You were supposed to kill them, you dolt!" The demon screamed. "You made me look like a fool!"  
  
Ah. Gotcha. Also, am I supposed to feel bad for him?  
  
"Now, **suffer** , you idiot!"  
  
I jumped, evading the explosion of dark flame by a single hair. There goes the "let's talk" part of my plan.  
  
  
I managed to evade the second strike and the third, and – with only a small burn received – the fourth. It was not becoming any easier with practice. Wherever the demon looked, a black fire appeared. I could fly fast, but not as fast as he moved his damn eyes!  
  
First things first, project Alpha, Doctor, and League kids. After the demon's appearance, their transgressions officially became irrelevant. Demonic and alien incursions as a rule took precede over pretty much _anything_ else. Regardless of the result of the battle, the location of the lab will not be a secret for anyone now.  
  
I needed every man, woman, child, cat, and its mouse that can fire an energy beam or two, and I needed them now. I doubted that the kids would be of any real use, but they could at least send a distress signal or save themselves. I was in Washington, damned capital of the US, and the League must have been already on alert with their sidekicks lost.  
  
All I needed was to hold this thing for a few minutes and not get the Cadmus laboratory destroyed. Simple, right?  
  
 **“Are you already running, worm?”**  
  
It took less than ten seconds to break through the first few, worthless office levels of the facility. It would have taken much less time if not for black fire, that was appearing in random places right below, in front, and to the sides of me. God, I felt dizzy – and I was sure that people with krypton heritage _could not_ feel dizzy just fifteen minutes.  
  
I didn’t have time to talk to the kids, and coming close to them was a lot similar to signing their death sentence, so I only dropped the force-field. Whatever happens to them now, is neither my problem, nor my responsibility.  
  
 **“The walls will not protect you, little homunculus!”**  
  
I had to take the next blast of fire right on my crossed hands, and it hurt like a bitch. A huge chunk of the over-ground facility turned to ash with a wave of demon’s frail, pale hand. I wanted to go straight for its throat, but there was another explosion right below me and I had to run.  
  
Every second of my presence anywhere close to the research facility meant heavy damage to the said facility. I had no other choice but to retreat – in the sky, to the sun and surplus of available energy. I hoped the demon will have trouble with the sun.  
  
I could hope for just a glimpse of luck, could I?  
  
I couldn’t. In fact, I turned out to be the one with troubles with the sun. In the skies, I was weaker than on the ground. There I at least had some form of a cover – here I was a perfect target on a blue background.  
  
Everything around me kept burst into flames, forcing me to keep going up, eating kilometers worth of space in mere seconds. With every second there were more and more flames around. At some point, they stopped disappearing after the explosion, and just _stayed there_ , following me. Trying to roast me. Blinding me. The fire also changed its color – the more intelligently it acted, the brighter it became. Finally, I found myself surrounded by the intelligent crimson fire.  
  
I lost my vision, and hearing, and… everything, really. The fire, whatever it was, consumed _everything_ , including magnetic and radio waves. It was below me and above me, from every side, and it kept growing. I wasn’t really evading it any longer – I just tried to put into the fire the parts that were not currently regenerating. I don’t know how many times I lost, regrown, and lost again skin on my hands.  
  
It was painful. It was humiliating. It was maddening.  
  
I had no idea on what height or altitude I was, or where was the sun. For all I knew, I could have flown straight into the ground. There was only fire constantly changing its shape and nothing else. Fire and shadows and speed and smoke. Had I needed to breathe, I would’ve been long dead by now.  
  
And I still couldn’t find him. I saw his shadow everywhere – but found nowhere. His shadow blinked behind every flare, it was in every single amber, but I could not find him.  
  
There was also a song. It was unfamiliar, but I knew it from somewhere. Was the demon singing? During the battle? What a prick.  
  
“Come out and fight me already, you daft cunt!”  
  
I screamed, barely evading another burst of crimson flame. It took a shape of a cloaked figure, disappearing right after the attack. The figure also vibrated and sang – and it was not just one figure. It was a freaking choir made of what must have been at least hundred-meters high cloaked figures from crimson flame.  
  
The demon was singing and conducting with his cane. I saw his shadow – he really went for it. Fucking prick.  
  
 **Like**

* > **Fire**
> 
>   
>  I jumped, dropped down, and flew straight up, roaring in pain. I just got another chunk of my right hand roasted straight to the bone – and regeneration took far too long. God, I needed sunlight so much. And what the hell was this fire? I am a freaking dynakinetic, every kind of energy that touched me must have been instantly redirected away!  
>   
>  **Hell**  
> 
> 
>  **Fire**
> 
>   
>  Ah, okay then. Thank you for the explanation.  
>   
>  **Dark**  
> 
> 
>  **Fire**
> 
>   
>  I had to forget about everything other than bare survival. I flew up and down, straight, and back, legs forward and ass up. And I was failing. More and more fire managed to touch me. More and more often whole chunks of my flesh were burned away or instantly boiled. There was not a single quantum of free energy, not a particle, not a photon left around – crimson fire ate everything, and regeneration feasted on my reserves.  
>   
> I was losing, and the demon knew it. Its maddening smirk was everywhere, in every shadow. It watched me, and I couldn’t find it.  
>   
> I needed to do something – anything. To stop fleeing and start to fight back already. I needed energy, I needed a weapon that could hurt, I needed… a lot of things. None were available.  
>   
>  **Dark**  
> 
> 
>  **Fire**
> 
>   
>  And yet there **was** power around. The demon threw it like Chernobyl during the meltdown. All I needed was…  
>   
>  **The fire in my skin**  
>   
>  I felt it. I – **felt** – it. I felt it, and I used it. I **fought** back.  
>   
> ‘Homunculus, hah? Made of your blood?’  
>   
> This fire did not feel like fire. It was water, and electricity, and magnetic field, and… everything. It was everything, and nothing, and all in between. I reached for it, and took it – I took it all, up to the last ember, from every single burning ghost around me.  
>   
> I took it.  
>   
> I took it – and saw the demon _._ It was in the very center of the flame, on top of the world. Hiding from me behind the layers of fire, leading me with mirages around. It played with me as an owner with a laser pointer might play with a cat. It sang with a smug smirk, and it burned me away, piece by piece. It feasted on my pain and suffering.  
>   
> Powerful and petty, a black hole of pure chaos, it did not belong to this world.  
>   
> It needed to be destroyed.  
> 
> 
>   
>  **This**  
> 
> 
>   
>  **Burning**  
> 
> 
> **Desire**
> 
>   
>  _Did I just sing along?  
> _  
>  I saw an opening. The demon was right below me, a dark figure among the hundred-meters high columns of crimson flame. I saw its smirk – inhumane, made from pure shadow and flame. Stinking with brimstone.  
>   
> It danced and sang, covered in crimson fire from all sides. A glowing dark figure on a crimson background, right below me. It will be impossible to miss.  
> I stretched out to the flames around me, taking in as much as I could. I only needed to reach him once. With all of the velocity that I gained flying around and the energy that I took from the sun and the cursed fire, it will be a multiple kiloton-worth strike. No demon can survive _that_.  
>   
> 
> 
> **Is turning**
> 
>  **Me**  
>  **To…**  
>   
>  The demon noticed me. _The fire_ noticed me. It saw all of the power that I took, it didn’t like it, and it started to burn me again. In the very center of the flame, I saw the demon’s angry scowl.  
>   
> I could feel my skin getting fucking _smoked_ from the heat. It was beyond painful, literally – all the nerves that could have felt pain were burned away. My regeneration was losing the battle, slowly, but surely. Stolen hellfire could not feed it, and with every passing fraction of a second more and more of my cells were boiled. Sixty seconds more, and I will turn into a mummy, and then to pile of ash.  
>   
> The shadow, surrounded by the flames, sang like it was the last time in its life. It stared at me. The song was reaching a crescendo.  
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **It is his blame!**  
> 
> 
>   
>  **He made the Devil**  
> 
> 
>   
>  **So much stronger**  
> 
> 
>   
>  **Then a man!**  
> 
> 
>   
> I did not have time.  
>   
> I was in pain.  
>   
> I needed to end the fight before it ended me, permanently.  
>   
> I…  
>   
> I was dying – that much was obvious. For some weird quirk of the crypton biology I still could use my limbs, even when there wasn’t anything but bones and few pieces of flesh attached to them. Perhaps, whoever’s theory was inserted into my brain was right, and cryptons _were_ innate telekinetics.  
>   
> It would’ve explained why I was still moving and kicking.  
>   
> The demon was smirking. The demon was gloating. It was right below me and it was open for a strike.  
>   
> The thing that proved its ability to teleport was staring at me waiting for a strike and was not moving away.  
>   
> Am I the only one who thinks that something is _terribly fucking wrong_ with that? Am I the only one talking to himself during the battle?  
>   
> I dunno. I am way too roasted to think straight anyway. And since I couldn’t do any thinking myself, I needed someone to do it for me. Preferably someone smart, with a lot of free time to plan for all kinds of shitty situations. Maybe even while getting paid for that kind of thing.  
>   
> Surprisingly enough, I, a weapon made for the military, had just such a memory package instilled.  
>   
> Regulations. Guidelines. Layers upon layers of orders and what-ifs. Plans, scenarios, guidelines, procedures, codes of conduct. The organization, strategy, and tactics.  
>   
> What to do, and what _not_ to do. When to do it, when _not_ to do it, and how to do it. To whom to answer.  
>   
> It was more than just a structure. It was more than a way to organize thoughts and actions.  
>   
> It was more than a procedure and even more than a way of thinking.  
>   
> It was order.  
>   
> In the hurricane of chaos, of raw pain, fear, and life-threatening danger, it was the only thing that granted stability. It was a beacon.  
>   
> I was no Superman. I was no superhero. My survival was not a priority. I was a weapon, and as such, I had a protocol of use.  
>   
> I didn’t need to defeat the demon. I needed to win time for the reinforcements and evacuation; to limit the casualties; to expose as little valued infrastructure to combat as possible.  
>   
> I was fighting on American soil.  
>   
> Using my main gun in a space, that wasn’t checked for possible damage, was going directly against every single step in the book. Especially considering where the Cadmus facility was based.  
>   
> I _really_ didn’t want to accidentally the Washington, DC.  
>   
> Meaning I needed to retreat. It was probably a futile attempt, but that’s what the general operation procedure told. To evaluate the risks, gather as much intel as possible, and act only and strictly after.  
>   
> I will most likely die trying to outrun the teleporting demon, but it's not like I had a lot of options. At least it will support the primary target, win some more time.  
>   
> Surprisingly, all that heavy thinking took barely a second of real time. Hah. I guess Cryptons _do_ have superficially enhanced brains, then. I will need to include it in the post-operation report.  
>   
> If I will survive for long enough to write it, that is.  
>   
> I was going to drop down, straight on the demon. I didn’t have any other options, really – the demon did not leave me any other. Flying further up proved to be an awful idea, there was no sun reaching beyond the flame screen, and in it, I was a perfect target.  
>   
> To fly left, right, or _anywhere else_ was a gamble since I had no idea where I was, under which angle, or at what altitude. I could be almost in space or right over the ground for all I know.  
>   
> Besides, the demon clearly wanted me to go there. His flame even became slightly _less_ damaging in the last few seconds that I took to think it all out. They did not become _safe_ , but just safe enough not to turn me to ash before I could go down and charge him.  
>   
> This entity really could have killed me at any time it wanted, couldn’t it?  
>   
> It didn’t matter. It was petty, it wanted to feel smart, and it was self-assured. If it wanted everything to go as it wanted, I will make it happen. Right until I won't.  
>   
> I gathered the hellfire around me - as dangerous as it was, it was a good enough protection from the demon’s fire – and fell down. I charged at him, with my eyes wide open and screaming from pain. Less damaging did not mean less painful, that’s for fucking sure.  
>   
> If I was right – and it was a big if – I just _might_ get out of it alive.  
>   
> It barely took seconds. I dropped on the demon from a few hundred meters above. I reached its neck, I tried to burn it, and my hands passed through.  
>   
> And then my legs hit the ground, burying half a meter deep.  
>   
> I was right.  
>   
>  _‘Eat this, you cunt!’_  
>   
>  Demon scowled. To evade my hit and to transfer all its energy straight on the city, it needed to de-materialize. To loose its hold on reality. To retreat into its dimension, for however few seconds.  
>   
> For _just enough_ seconds for me to jump straight into the sky, towards the sun, with no screen of hellfire blocking the sunlight. To fly towards the free source of pure energy. Towards regeneration. Towards life.  
>   
> Towards a quickly descending man in a tight blue suit. Who looked, quite frankly, pissed. There were other figures following him. They were slower but stank of magic.  
>   
> Well, nothing good could last for long, could it?  
>   
> It took seconds in the direct sunlight for my wounds to start to close. It was nowhere near full regeneration, it will probably take hours if not days, and I still looked more like a half-burned skeleton, but I could get back and support Superman from behind. I wasn't the best magician in the world, but I still could throw some spells that could be useful, especially if I was not burning alive while casting them.  
>   
> I could also return to Cadmus and check on what was going on there during the entire shitshow. Hopefully, League kids survived it alright.  
>   
> I could do all those important things.  
>   
> Or I could just say "fuck it", fly towards the sun and get some well-deserved me-time.  
>   
> It sounded really, really tempting.  
>   
> When I returned to Cadmus, it looked thoroughly thrashed. The mutated animals were running around, corpses – no, they were breathing – bodies of the lab security were laying in random places, and the trio of kids stood with Superboy over… something.  
>   
> I am honestly not sure what it is. A terribly mutated ape? Probably something along those lines.  
>   
> There go my orders. Fine. I am way too tired to deal with this mess on top of everything.  
>   
> “Holy… shit, dude, you alright?”  
>   
> I wasn’t all that sure myself. I raised my hand and locked the kids in the force-field again. After a second thought, I did the same with the Alpha. He raised an eyebrow. I shrugged and enclosed in the layered force-fields the entire lab level.  
>   
> Sorry, brother, but I am a bit too fucked up to risk-taking hits right now.  
>   
> “Hey! That again?!” The loud kid whined. “Come on, we are friends now!”  
>   
> Superboy uncertainly waved his hand. I think he himself wasn’t sure what was happening.  
>   
> “I will survive.” Probably. “Alpha, report the status.”  
>   
> “When the demon appeared, Doctor Desmond received an order to purify the facility and to delete all the data. He tried to follow it through. I intervened.”  
>   
> I think I know where this is going.  
>   
> “And this is…”  
>   
> I nodded towards a mess of fur, claws, and thick hide that lied in handcuffs under Superboy’s right boot.  
>   
> “Doctor Desmond.” Project Alpha shrugged. “When I ordered him to stand down, he tried to resist, injected raw mutating concentrate, and attacked me.”  
>   
> Yeh. Could have guessed that myself.  
>   
> “We helped!” Kid Flash? - I guess that was his name, said. “Besides, your doc was an idiot.”  
>   
> We stared at him. Doctor Desmond might not be the most loyal or honorable person, but he was our creator.  
>   
> He _was_ smart.  
>   
> “I take offense in that,” I said. Superboy nodded. “We take offense in that.”  
>   
> That made the kid blush. I wasn’t sure if he was scared or embarrassed.  
>   
> “Hey! I meant not in a bad way!”  
>   
> “In what way, then?”  
>   
> “It’s just… transforming to monsters never work. Even kids know that.” Kid Flash smirked. “If your stronger form does not look like a sexy humanoid, you are going to suck.”  
>   
> It was an interesting thought.  
>   
> “That’s so?”  
>   
> “That’s what TV and games taught me.”  
>   
> Kids chuckled. I wasn’t sure how serious he was. It didn’t matter.  
>   
> “Regardless. And…” I waved my hand towards the wave of screaming mutated animals. “This?”  
>   
> “Doctor opened all of the cells and removed safety measures to stop me.”  
>   
> “To stop _us_!” Kids loudly protested. “We fought them off while you were chasing doc!”  
>   
> I felt a starting headache. I wanted to go back to sunlight. Actually… fuck it. The lab is ruined anyway. Of course, it provided some marginal protection from the demonic blasts above, but it could equally easily crash down on us.  
>   
> And I was in no condition to shield us all from the thousand’s cubic tonnes worth of steel and cement.  
>   
> “Follow me. I will expand the force-field to let you walk. Try to run or to attack me and you get back to chains.”  
>   
> “Hey, we can walk…”  
>   
> Kid Flash tried to argue but was shushed by his own comrade.  
>   
> “We can’t. If the base collapses, they will survive it - we won’t. It’s for our protection.” Mutated guy shortly bowed. “Thank you.”  
>   
> That shut Kid Flash up. I nodded. The mutant was smart. It was a good thing to know.  
>   
> The road back to the ground level was not hard, nor long, but there was not witty bunter that one might expect. Kids were nervously glancing at the ceiling cracks, Superboy performed the rear-guard, and I was desperately trying not to collapse.  
>   
> I wasn’t sure how close to death I was, but it was much, much closer than I felt comfortable with.  
>   
> Finally, we reached the destination. The ground level. The moment we were there, Superboy broke down the closest wall and pushed me out on the sunlight. Then he forced me to lie down. I wanted to protest but couldn’t find enough strength to move my tongue.  
>   
> “Rest. I will take care of the rest.”  
>   
> I heard him discussing something with kids but couldn’t understand their words. It felt a lot like hibernation in the pod. They reached some kind of agreement.  
>   
> “Robin! Kid Flash! Aqualad!” Sunlight fell on my face, and loud screams forced me to wake up. I don’t know how much time passed – probably, minutes. Maybe hours. I felt better. “Thank gods you are alive!”  
>   
> Someone – numerous someone’s stood right in front of me. Incorrect, right in front of me and Superboy, and kids. And…  
>   
> “Alive, and deep in shit.” An unfamiliar voice said. It was cold, it was deep, and it was low. “Your junior members had broken into the secured government facility. It alone warrants up to fifty years in prison, ignoring the damage incurred.”  
>   
> The speaker was a woman. She was black, overweight, and built like a brick. She could also stare down the king of Atlantis.  
>   
> “Damages can be discussed later. Atlantis and Wayne corporation is more than capable of footing the bill.”  
>   
> Hah. They really did not have problems with money, did they?  
>   
> “Your eagerness is duly noted, Mr. Curry,” my boss said. “But it is the United States government who will decide what is the amount of the damages, and who will foot the bill. Not you, nor Wayne corporation.”  
>   
> ‘The US does not need charity’ – was left unsaid.  
>   
> “If you say so, Ms. Waller,” Aquaman nodded. “The League will await subpoena, then.”  
>   
> “Do so.” She sighed. “Now, your junior members will remain detained until further notice. They will be interrogated, and the degree of blame will be determined. You may visit them after the interrogations are over.”  
>   
> “I afraid it will not happen.” Someone said in a voice that I knew all too well. It was my voice, plain and simple. “You will let our junior members remain under house arrest, and you will explain your actions.”  
>   
> I opened my eyes. I really wanted to close them right after. Superman was floating right in front of me, his suit was torn in a few places, and he was **pissed**.  
>   
> So much so that I could feel his eyes glowing from the excessive energy. He really wanted to blow something up.  
>   
> “Explain yourself? Superman, with all due respect, don’t you think that you take too much on yourself?”  
>   
> No, he really wasn’t. Not when I was in the state I was.  
>   
> “You stole my gene material. You used it to create my clones without my consent. You also used it for crossbreding with demons.”  
>   
> “I can neither deny nor confirm the accusation. Frankly, I don’t have to do either.”  
>   
> “When did you go mad with the death wish, Amanda? Your government created this… _abomination_ and summoned the chaos demon in the middle of the DC. What next? A cross of a demon with an alien? A xenomorph army with my and martian genes?”  
>   
> “Superman…”  
>   
> The man in the blue suit shook his head.  
>   
> “I am bringing this to the court and media. I wonder what the American public will say about its government creating an army of demonic clones.”  
>   
> Amanda shrugged indifferently.  
>   
> “I can't stop you.”  
>   
> Superman stepped forward. The woman did not flinch.  
>   
> “Then please, stand down, and allow the League specialists to work. There is a lot of useful data left in the facility.”  
>   
> “The facility is a government research center, and you have no right to enter it. I afraid I can not grant it.” Amanda shook her head. “I am sorry, Superman, but it is you who will have to stand down.”  
>   
> ‘Or else?’  
>   
> I sighed. Superman looked pissed as all hell, and Amanda wasn’t going to back out. Unless I come up with something, there will be blood.  
>   
> Or, well, not blood. But he will definitely try and push his way into the facility, and Amanda will probably order me to stop him. Or maybe not. Fuck, why did Superboy turned out to be competent and stopped Doctor before he wiped out all of the intel? Fuck.  
>   
> Either way, it won’t be pretty.  
>   
> Who knew that Superman’s clones might be a sore spot? You know, after the whole thing with Zod, and Doomsday, and you got the drift. He hated experimentations on his genetics.  
>   
> Especially those experimentations that resulted in clones that are a crossbreed with chaos demons.  
>   
> I could understand the guy. I really, really could.  
>   
> A pity I will have to kill him if the order comes. _When_ it comes, if things will go the way they do now.  
>   
> Minutes went by. Superman stared at Amanda, she didn’t move. Right until she did. She opened her phone – a huge brick of the phone, mind you – looked at it, and smiled.  
>   
> “Thank you for the consideration you showed, Superman. I had requested access on your behalf, and it was granted personally by the president.”  
>   
> She stepped back, but the man in the blue suit didn’t even bother to step forward. It was obvious that all data in the facility was deleted already.  
>   
> Superman didn’t say anything. He didn’t throw threats or even spare us a glance. He came closer, grabbed three sidekicks, and disappeared into the sky. No one tried to stop him.  
>   
> I had a very shitty feeling about it.  
>   
> 

  

* > ***
> 
>   
> The first thing Amanda gave me the next morning was a passport. The US passport. With my photo on it, and blank in the name column.  
>   
> I had a nice night on the orbit. There was enough sunlight to regenerate completely, but fresh skin sometimes felt too sensitive.  
>   
> Honestly, I expected something different. An extensive interrogation, or report writing, or something. Instead of keeping me in the tiny room, Amanda ordered me to get my ass on the orbit, rest and be back in her office by nine of the next day.  
>   
> She was a good boss.  
>   
> I also had a feeling that Superboy was suffering for both of us – he spent most of the time in the same room as me and could provide all the same information being healthy while doing it. There was also camera footage.  
>   
> Yeh, she really didn’t need to question me on anything other than the demon, and I had a feeling that it could wait.  
>   
> “Meaning I am a citizen now?”  
>   
> Amanda hushed in irritation.  
>   
> “Possibly.” She pushed the fresh-looking newspaper towards me. “Read.”  
>   
> I did. Damn if it wasn’t an interesting read. The Big Guy went all out, just as he promised. It was less of a news article as a chronicle mixed with a list of accusations. There was everything – starting from the secret lab, human experimentation, and industrial-scale production of living weapons, up to attempted murder of League’s children and clone creation for spying.  
>   
> Yeh, trust kids to keep their mouths fucking shut. There wasn’t much in terms of proofs, mostly hearsay and say-so’s, but...  
>   
> “Superman v. United States. Really?”  
>   
> She nodded.  
>   
> “And people believed him?” I raised my brow. “This is horseshit with no evidence.”  
>   
> “You exist. It is proved by every camera in the DC.” Amanda said. “And he is Superman.”  
>   
> Right. I think this is what they call reputation. I should try and get one of my own.  
>   
> “League threw its weight behind him. From twelve pm tomorrow they will stop performing any activities on the US territory. They withdraw their offer of protection and will stay neutral in any case that involves the use of the US military.”  
>   
> Holy…  
>   
> “Are you serious? They really promised that?!”  
>   
> “Do I look like a clown to you?”  
>   
> I wasn’t sure. It was… not even huge. I didn’t really have words to describe the size of it. Astronomical?  
>   
> “Complete stop. Like, full stop?”  
>   
> “Full. Total. Caput. No support, no protection, no intervention. If New York gets invaded by the aliens, Superman will be eating popcorn, and the League will bring him drinks. _You wanted sovereignty, you got it._ ” She quoted someone. It sounded lame and nervous.  
>   
> Ah. Hah. Wow. Like, wow. The Big Guy was playing chicken with the entirety of the US government. And he had the entire League behind him. And it was such a terrible precedent, that…  
>   
> Just how royally did we piss him off?  
>   
> I doubted that he will be able to just sit back and watch people dying, but it will show the US just how much they need him and will push the public opinion on his side. Probably. I think?  
>   
> “What does he want?”  
>   
> “Public disclosure of all information regarding Krypton cloning, names, locations and profiles of all successful specimens produced, and the strictest ban on all work in this field without his written consent.”  
>   
> That… wasn’t all that much. Someone might even consider it reasonable. If you forget that those were demands of a private person to the US government.  
>   
> “That’s it?”  
>   
> “Also, extensive trial for everyone connected to the project. And a public apology.”  
>   
> Well, not that much.  
>   
> “Thank you for disclosing this.” I sighed. “What do you need me to do?”  
>   
> Actually, nevermind.  
>   
> “Am I here to get a gun with one round so you can deny my existence?”  
>   
> Amanda stared at me. Hard.  
>   
> “I… people higher than me need your opinion.”  
>   
> Hah. She was dead serious.  
>   
> “Shoot.”  
>   
> She looked… unsure. I didn’t know that Amanda Waller could do that. That was the day of surprises.  
>   
> “What I will say is the highest-grade national secret. Far higher than your clearance. Upon answering you will be mind-wiped.”  
>   
> I nodded. She pressed a few buttons hidden beneath her table, and the room was filled with blue light.  
>   
> “It will prevent the eavesdropping.” She sighed. “Now, project Omega. I need an evaluation. Are you capable of protecting the A-1 and A-2 areas of the United States during the next five months?”  
>   
> A-1 and A-2 meant areas most crucial for the country's survival. Agricultural and manufacturing complexes, research centers, databases, biggest population centers, power stations. Not all, not even all that many, but still – considerable.  
>   
> “What am I protecting them against?”  
>   
> Don’t get me wrong, I am fairly strong. I will probably manage to kill most of the things that were observed on the Earth in the last fifty years of observations. But, first of all, not _all_ of them, and I will need time to rest. To refill the energy reserve, to regenerate.  
>   
> And I was really, really, weak to magic. And to kryptonite.  
>   
> “Everything,” Amanda answered. “Everything that can attack the US during that time span.”  
>   
> No. Definitely no. Fuck no, I am not ready.  
>   
> “What if I say yes?”  
>   
> “You will open the bottle with a jin that might blow up us all.” Amanda sighed. “Our superiors are ready for… drastic actions. Superman threw the glow and gave us a long-awaited probable cause.”  
>   
> Is she meaning what I think she does?  
>   
> “The information, that was saved in the Omega facility, allowed the state cloning project to get on the home stretch. In four months the first batch of ten Superman clones will be operational and ready for use. But only if we will have those five months.”  
>   
> “I… can it be done in secret?” I was really, really not ready to deal with that amount of responsibility. “Drown Superman in paperwork. You know. The usual stuff.”  
>   
> Amanda slowly shook her head.  
>   
> “It is half measures, Batman will go through them in a day, and it will be done only if you are sure that you can take full responsibility for the consequences. The Office is not willing to alienate Superman unless we are sure that you can do his job.”  
>   
> So, high risk, high reward. Either go against the guy, and pray for the best, or surrender right now.  
>   
> “If I say no, you will stop the work on cloning?”  
>   
> “They will become much more constrained and will take much longer to develop.” She stared at me. “If the Government makes a deal with the Superman, it will be in no position to fall back.”  
>   
> Ah. Now we talk threats, don’t we?  
>   
> “So. If I say that I am not ready, what happens to me and Superboy?”  
>   
> Woman shrugged.  
>   
> “On paper, you are considered to be conditionally sentient beings. The US government will declare that it was fooled by the unknown villainous actors, all research was sponsored by private institutions, and will refrain from any claim on the products of the research. They will be given to the League to deal with.”  
>   
> Right. In translation on humane language, If I can’t give them a full victory, they are not ready to risk their asses for me. I am a valuable, but very toxic asset, and I am not worth a full-on confrontation with Superman on my own. They can make another me in ten years once it all is blown off, they can’t risk losing Superman.  
>   
> Having their own magical Superman is cool, but not if it means losing the real thing along with the entire League.  
> Fuck. They really hoped for secrecy, didn’t they?  
>   
> “And if I say yes?”  
>   
> “An alternative to the League will be established – a national team of superheroes with a foundation made mostly of Superman clones, answering directly to the executive branch. You will be used as its head and public face. Every US citizen with powers will receive an offer to join.”  
>   
> Meaning superpowered military. What did she say? A jinn that can blow up us all? Burry us straight in our graves, I’d say.  
>   
> I wasn’t sure what to say. Or what to do. Because shit. Holy fucking hell on earth.  
>   
> It had to happen at some point, national governments rarely liked to answer to anyone, but why did I have to stuck in the middle of it?  
>   
>   
> I didn’t wake up in a cell, which was a surprise. A nice surprise, but surprise nonetheless. I honestly didn’t hope to leave Waller’s office in one piece, at last not locked in the pod.  
>   
> And yet here I was, in the backroom of the Justice League HQ. In a company of silent Batman, that ignored my every attempt to start a dialogue. With no memories of how I got there.  
>   
> I was pretty sure Batman had a kryptonite lamp installed somewhere, but, still, it was more than what I hoped for.  
>   
> Doors opened without a sound. No click, no air incoming – the entire thing was air-tight. Come to think of it, I wasn’t even sure if it was connected to the building. I could see it through the window, but it also could be secluded by a teleportation chamber.  
>   
> It was as good way to contain krypton as any.  
>   
> Superman didn’t say anything at first. He looked at me, and he wasn’t using the x-ray vision. He searched for something with his normal eyes.  
>   
> Himself, I think.  
>   
> I stood up and pressed my palm to the right of my eye. It wasn’t the best of my salutes, but it delivered the sentiment. ‘Project Omega at your disposal.’  
>   
> I wasn’t – not really. I still had to kill him at some point. But according to Amanda’s order now I was reporting to him.  
>   
> “Do you consider me your superior?”  
>   
> Superman asked. I couldn’t read his voice. It was too much like mine.  
>   
> “I was ordered to consider you my superior.” I chuckled. Couldn’t help it. “Amanda was very clear that you will decide my fate.”  
>   
> He stared.  
>   
> Pauses, pauses. There were way too many awkward pauses around the man. He didn’t know how to treat me. I didn’t know how to treat him.  
>   
> We stared.  
>   
> “You were created without my knowledge or my consent. I want you to know it.”  
>   
> I nodded.  
>   
> “Permission to make a request before you dispose of me?”  
>   
> Perhaps, I acted like a brat. Perhaps I was hurt. Just a fucking bit.  
>   
> “Granted.”  
>   
> “Super…” I figured he might not like that name. Connections and all. “Project Alpha is a hybrid of human and krypton. He has no demonic blood and he glorifies you.”  
>   
> Superman raised his brow.  
>   
> “Glorifies me?”  
>   
> “We were made for different purposes. He was made to replace you shall you perish.”  
>   
> “He can’t even fly.”  
>   
> I sighed.  
>   
> “He isn’t a perfect copy.” I grimaced. “Still, he was made to become a Superman. A hero to save the day.”  
>   
> Pause. Pauses, pauses, pauses – fuck, I hate them already.  
>   
> “And you?” Superman asked. “What were you made for?”  
>   
> There wasn’t much point in lying. It was all in the name – Omega.  
>   
> “To end you, shall you cross the line.”  
>   
> Silence. Not even pause – silence.  
>   
> “You, a demonic hybrid, will decide when I cross the line?” He shook his head. “What were they even thinking...”  
>   
> I smiled. He was human, in the end. Not a statue of steel.  
>   
> “I have criteria to use,” I said. “If the direct kill count from your actions surpasses five percent of the US population in total, or one percent in one day. Or if the damage to the US military from your hands surpasses thirty percent of the total fighting capabilities.”  
>   
> Or if I get a direct order. I didn’t say that – I already had said enough. I gave him the keys to me. Something he can use to evade triggering my commands.  
>   
> Superman was silent. He looked at me, and I would kill to figure out what was going on in his head.  
>   
> “I am your fail-safe. The US weapon of self-defense.”  
>   
> “You are. While you are a single copy.” He said quietly. “Two of you? Ten of you? A hundred? A thousand? That will create ideas.”  
>   
> I nodded. Couldn’t argue with the obvious. Give people a weapon and they will start thinking about using it really, really soon. And Superman clones were a damn good weapon.  
>   
> “Will you allow me to live?”  
>   
> A simple question, requiring a simple answer.  
>   
> “You fought Klarion. Kids testified in your favor. You care about your… brother enough to put your life on the line.” He whispered. I saw his eyes – he didn’t know what to do. He was just as lost as I was. “I will give you a chance. **One** chance.”  
>   
> That was more than I expected.  
>   
> “I am listening.”  
>   
> “From this moment you are on probation. Since you think in terms of laws and codes of conduct, Batman will give you one. You will follow it to the latter. If you don’t know what to do, you ask him for the interpretation.” Blue eyes were made of steel. “You will not kill. You will not injure. You will not break the law unless ordered to do so by a senior member of the League. You will follow every single rule in the book, up to the last comma.”  
>   
> I bowed.  
>   
> “Understood.”  
>   
> Superman stared at me. His look was hard, evaluating.  
>   
> “If I find out that you broke one – just one – rule – once, Zatara will chain you and banish you from this dimension.”  
>   
> Hah. I thought they will just lock me up or kill me. I expected something less esoteric.  
>   
> “Understood.”  
>   
> “There is a party in the next room. Go and socialize. We will watch.”  
>   
> I bowed again. I stepped outside of the room-like cell.  
>   
> There was, indeed, a party.  
>   
> 

  

* > ***
> 
>   
>   
> There was pretty much everyone I expected. League kids – they waved at me, smiling. Superboy was with them, looking shy and out of his plate.  
>   
> There was also a gorgeous redhead talking to Wonder Woman. She was… wow. Just… _wow_.  
>   
> The woman was barely clothed. Tight blue-greenish bodysuit fir her tight like a glove, only emphasizing the curves. By itself, it wasn’t all that uncommon. Wonder Woman herself wasn’t exactly a paragon of chastity.  
>   
> She didn't catch my eye. I am not sure why. She was beautiful, to say the least. She was awfully close to perfection. She was made by gods, after all.  
>   
> But she didn't attract me. Something in her - age, probably, millennia in her eyes - stopped me from being attracted.  
>   
> I simply knew how much older than me she was, on a basic, primitive level.  
>   
> The woman talking to her looked twenty-three, at most. She didn't feel much older.  
>   
> There was something in the way she looked. Something in the way she smirked. Something in those tired, angry eyes made me stare.  
>   
> “Don’t stare.”  
>   
> Aqualad muttered under his nose. He knew that I would hear him – super-hearing existed for a reason.  
>   
> “Why? She is showing off for a reason.”  
>   
> And oh boy, there was something to show.  
>   
> “She is my queen.”  
>   
> “I am glad for you. You have an exclusively beautiful queen.”  
>   
> “Dude!” Aqualad’s angry whisper sounded more like a scream. “She is married!”  
>   
> Ah. Well…  
>   
> “Some bastard got lucky.”  
>   
> “Not bastard _._ My _king_!”  
>   
> I sighed. It was a sore spot for the kid, was it not?  
>   
> “Does she give private lessons?”  
>   
> “Of what?”  
>   
> “Of anything.”  
>   
> As if listening to us, a woman raised her hand, forcing a wine to come out of the bottle straight into her glass. It looked rather cool, even if I could probably do that.  
>   
> She also smirked at me. She watched me watching her and did nothing about it. If anything, she only arched her back just a bit further, making the view sweeter. Finally, she gave me a nod and said something to Wonder Woman.  
>   
> Demigoddess nodded and stepped back, leaving to talk to Batman. She caressed the woman's hand lightly before leaving. Interesting.  
>   
> I came closer. Aqualad tried to come with me but met her gesture and stopped. Poor kid.  
>   
> The very first thing she told me was:  
>   
> “You are staring.”  
>   
> Hah.  
>   
> “Isn’t it why you put on such an outfit?”  
>   
> She raised her brow and glared.  
>   
> “Did you just call me a slut?”  
>   
> “No. It was a fair and reasonable question.” It really was. My implanted memory said so. “Do you want to have sex?”  
>   
> “Where were you taught to flirt, in the army brothel?”  
>   
> I... am honestly not sure where these memories came from. Or from whom.  
>   
> “Your suit leaves nothing to the imagination. Do you want to be sexually violated or is it an offer?” I shrugged. “If it is, I agree.”  
>   
> “What makes you think that I will entertain the idea of bedding you?”  
>   
> “You were staring.” I couldn’t help it. “Your eyes did not leave my muscles. And I know that my physical form is appealing.”  
>   
> She laughed, shortly.  
>   
> “You are a hungry and self-assured young thing, are you not?” She snorted. “You are talking to a queen. Show decency.”  
>   
> I felt... hungry? Not, not really. Hunger is related to sustainability, and my body was fine with that. But something lingered.  
>   
> I should have felt pressure, but I didn’t. She wasn’t joking, but she wasn’t serious, either. Her words were empty. Reactionary. No, not really. They were habit-like.  
>   
> She wasn’t teasing me, and she wasn’t offended. She was pretending to be. She was saying something she would have said normally, but her heart wasn’t in it.  
>   
> Still, she allowed me to stare. I might consider it an invitation. But It felt... unearned. The woman sighed and waved her hand. A tiny veil of water surrounded us.  
>   
> Its effect was very similar to what I did with kids back in the Cadmus research center. A tiny barrier of liquid prevented sounds from leaving and covered the movements of our lips.  
>   
> "Black Manta." She spoke. There was something sincere in the way she said it. It was something fundamental. True. Honest. She hated the man – pure and simple. "I want him found, I want him tortured, and I want him dead."  
>   
> "Why?"  
>   
> "He murdered my child."  
>   
> There was silence. That’s escalated quickly.  
>   
> “Why won't your husband do anything about it?”  
>   
> She chuckled. It was not a pretty sound. It was broken and sore.  
>   
> “He refused to. Gave the bastard to the earthling law enforcement and removed all information from my reach.” She sighed. “What a brilliant king he is.”  
>   
> “And you want me to find and kill him?”  
>   
> “Yes.” There were almost no emotions in her voice. It was a burned-out, ash-like tone of a person that got nothing left to lose. "You were created as a soldier, were you not? You know how to follow orders and how to kill.”  
>   
> I did. I never killed before, but… I didn’t have that block on a murder that other heroes had. I was a weapon, and a weapon is useless if it cannot be lethal.  
>   
> She was close - really fucking close, but not in a slutty way. She didn’t make a move on me, as I thought before. She simply didn’t care. She allowed me to stare because she didn’t care enough to stop me.  
>   
> She could probably walk around naked and don’t feel anything.  
>   
> "Won't he protest?" I asked. “If he didn’t want the man dead, it was his decision.”  
>   
> "Why would I care?"  
>   
> There wasn’t even a pause. Her eyes were bright, blue, and dead. She probably could stab me and wash her hair with the same expression.  
>   
> "He is your husband and king, is he not?"  
>   
> "He _was_ my husband. He _was_ my king." She chuckled brokenly. "A man that refused to avenge the death of his son is no man at all."  
>   
> I couldn't say much to that. According to about three-quarters of my memories, she was right.  
>   
> "And if I do it for you?" I asked. “What do I get?”  
>   
> There was no hesitation in her voice. No emotions, either. She was simply tired and very, very depressed.  
>   
> "I will allow you to have what you want."  
>   
> Wording, Omega. Not ‘I will give you’, but ‘I will allow you to have’. It is not a relationship she is talking about. It is a shop talk.  
>   
> ‘I will let you use my guitar if you let me use your computer.”  
>   
> It was a service in exchange for service.  
>   
> I felt like an idiot, but I had to clarify.  
>   
> "Do you mean sex?"  
>   
> She chuckled. It sounded rather dark.  
>   
> "Knowledge of Atlantis magic. Money. Property. Sex. Companionship. Children, if that is what you desire." She sighed. "My family and my child are dead. My husband is a parody of a man that I have no desire to see ever again. I might just go for a change. Any change, really."  
>   
> I… wasn’t at a loss of words, not exactly. But I wasn’t expecting _that_ when I came to talk to her. I expected, I dunno, small talk.  
>   
> Not a headhunt request.  
>   
> “Why are you asking me?”  
>   
> Of all people, I wasn’t really known. I also didn’t have much in terms of reputation yet.  
>   
> “You survived Klarion.” Mera answered. “You have the strength to do it, and you weren’t brainwashed into this sect yet.”  
>   
> This sect. She could roast, I give her that.  
>   
> “If I kill, I get in Superman’s naughty list.”  
>   
> Probably even termination list, if I will piss him off that much. It will also put me in Aquaman’s shit list - and for more reasons than one.  
>   
> Batman and Aqualad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, too. For different reasons, though.  
>   
> Wonder Woman might understand, but she won’t lift a finger.  
>   
> “I fail to see how it is my concern.” Mera calmly said. “If you want to whine, spare me. I gave you my offer. Take it or leave it.”  
>   
> At that, she left. Simply turned around, dropped the water veil, and left, leaving me to stare at her ass.  
>   
> Aquaman was a lucky bastard indeed.  
>   
>   
> 
> 
> Spoiler: Mera  
> 
> 
>   
>   
>   
> “She is a thing of beauty, isn’t she?”  
>   
> She saw me talking to Mera. Of course, she did.  
>   
> “You did her?”  
>   
> “Both of them. For some time.” She smiled. “Are you surprised?”  
>   
> Honestly? No. For some reason, I wasn't.  
>   
> “That you are talking about it so openly, yes.”  
>   
> She chuckled.  
>   
> “It comes with age. You will understand in a few centuries.”  
>   
> I probably will. I stared at her, uncertain. From one side, she is old, experienced, smart, and probably already knows everything I can tell her. On the other...  
>   
> I decided to go for it.  
>   
> “She asked me to kill for her.”  
>   
> Diana nodded.  
>   
> "Black Manta, yes. An unfortunate story."  
>   
> “You knew?”  
>   
> “Why else would Mera seek you out?” She sighed. “Poor girl is not nearly as hard to predict as she hopes she is.”  
>   
> “Why didn’t you help her? If you really are her lover.”  
>   
> She sighed.  
>   
> “A…quaman made a decision. I chose not to intervene out of my respect for him.”  
>   
> “It is their business?”  
>   
> She nodded.  
>   
> “Pretty much.”  
>   
> Troubles with having two lovers. Might have guessed.  
>   
> “Should I follow your example?”  
>   
> I expected to hear an order. She smiled instead.  
>   
> “Will you manage to? Boy, I know your kind. You will do what you think is right anyway.”  
>   
> Well, fuck. This talk was going exactly how I didn’t expect it to go.  
>   
> “You expected to receive an order, didn’t you?”  
>   
> “Well, yes?”  
>   
> Wonder Woman chuckled.  
>   
> “You are in the wrong place then. League is not an army, and I am not your _starategos_. Think with your head and choose for yourself.”  
>   
> “I wonder if others think the same.”  
>   
> “About a half of them." She smiled. "Other half would rather have you banished."  
>   
> “Why are you so…"  
>   
> “Blunt?”  
>   
> “Yeh.”  
>   
> “It is the language you will understand the best.” Wonder Woman chuckled. “Live for as long as I, and you will learn to appreciate the clarity. Nothing on history ruined more good plans than overcomplications for their own sake."  
>   
> I could appreciate the sentiment.  
>   
> “So, you will tell me what I want to hear?”  
>   
> “No. I will tell you what is, without sugar-coating.”  
>   
> She smiled. She always smiled - and only now I figured out that it was's a smile at all. It was her usual, professional expression. Equally pleasant and devoid of her real feelings.  
>   
> “Opinions were… divided. Half of the League voted for you to be banished. I, Superman, and Batman chose to give you are a chance. In the end, it was up to one person.”  
>   
> Hah. She didn’t tell who voted against, only those who voted in my favor. A trick as old as voting itself.  
>   
> I had to guess, then.  
>   
> “Aquaman?”  
>   
> I will feel bad if she’ll say yes.  
>   
> Wonder Woman smiled.  
>   
> “Kent Nelson”.  
>   
> Damn it. Not yes, but not a definite no either. Woman, can you answer something straight for once?  
>   
> “Never heard about him.”  
>   
> “He is our… you might call him a specialist in demonic matters. We contacted him to get his opinion on the matter. It was favorable enough to grant you lenience.”  
>   
> Oh. Nice.  
>   
> "I owe him, then." I looked at her. "Any thought on why he did it?"  
>   
> “Klarion is very close to being his… nemesis, you might say. His oldest enemy.”  
>   
> Ah. Right.  
>   
> “Let me guess. Convert the child, freak out the parent?”  
>   
> “Pretty much.”  
>   
> What a nice line of reasoning, I tell you.  
>   
> “Thank you, I guess.” I shrugged. “For the vote of confidence.”  
>   
> “You are welcome. I am a stern believer in first chances.” Wonder Woman smiled. “Don’t make me regret it.”  
>   
> “I will try not to.”  
>   
> “Yes.” Her eyes grew colder. “You will not.”  
>   
> Ha...h. Talking with her was like walking on a minefield. Made of kryptonite. Under the red star.  
>   
> “You take it personally, don’t you?”  
>   
> “Quite a bit, yes.” Wonder Woman looked straight at me. “Boy. No one in this building has a good record of cooperation with demons. No one I had ever known has it, either. I might even go as far as to say that demons are the closest thing to the ultimate evil I had seen in my life."  
>   
> Neet.  
>   
> "So, I am a big bad."  
>   
> "Not necessarily. But your existence is a fundamental danger to the world, yes.”  
>   
> Well. She said that she will be brutally honest.  
>   
> “Yet you let me live.”  
>   
> “Yes.” She nodded. “Yet I let you live.”  
>   
> Silence ensued.  
>   
> “Last time, Klarion came straight after me. He might have a way to track me down.”  
>   
> “Not necessarily.” She said. “According to your… brother's, I suppose, testimony, your creator contacted someone addressed as ‘L-1’. It could have been Klarion.”  
>   
> I nodded. It made sense.  
>   
> “He gave his blood for my creation. Might have known the place of production.” It was possible. But still… “Can your resident specialist teach me a trick or two?”  
>   
> She grimaced. I think it was pain on her face.  
>   
> “He could... If I could contact him.”  
>   
> I sighed. Loudly. Because nothing could ever be easy, could it?  
>   
> “He is kidnapped, isn’t he?”  
>   
> Wonder Woman shrugged.  
>   
> “He is, as you call it, MIA.” She was sarcastic, but her voice nothing but serious. “League couldn’t find him.”  
>   
>  _‘I couldn’t find him.’_  
>   
>  “Where do I look?”  
>   
> “You don’t.”  
>   
> “I might find him.”  
>   
> That made her suspicious.  
>   
> “How?”  
>   
> “I can call up Klarion. He most definitely knows where your colleague is.”  
>   
> Wonder Woman chuckled.  
>   
> “Remind me how your previous engagement with him went?”  
>   
> “It would’ve been better, had I not been alone.”  
>   
> “Or worse, if he didn’t decide to play with you. It is a vicious circle. We need Kent's help to bind Klarion, and we need to bind Klarion to save Kent." Diana sighed. “Wait for further instructions and don't act on your own. I will tell you once we find the solution."  
>   
> On that, she left.  
>   
> When I came to the kids, their stairs were intense and a bit doubtful. Aqualad was angry, Kid Flash flashed an annoying, cheery grin, and Robin… well, I couldn’t say, really. He was busy with his hand computer.  
>   
> “What did she say? Did you get her number?”  
>   
> “Kid Flash!”  
>   
> “Come on, give us all the juicy details.”  
>   
> “Guys!”  
>   
> The poor guy looked light he might blow up. I decided to throw him a bone.  
>   
> “Nothing happened.” I sighed. “Her grace was curious about my powers and creation."  
>   
> "If someone doubted it. You must talk with respect with you speak of the royalties."  
>   
> “Aqualad, you know that she is not your wife, right?”  
>   
> “She is my queen. I have to protect her name.”  
>   
> Ah, so it's his job. Gotcha.  
>   
> “Then don’t be a dick about it. She’s hot, no point denying the fact.”  
>   
> He sighed. I guess he couldn't deny that much.  
>   
> “You still should be more polite about it.”  
>   
> “Sure. She is _a thing of beauty_.” I quoted Wonder Woman. I wonder – pun not intended – if Aqualad knows that she banged her. Probably not. “Are you cool with that, kid?”  
>   
> He sighed.  
>   
> “Somewhat.”  
>   
> “Why do you call us kids all the time?" Kid Flash argued. "You are the same age as Superboy.”  
>   
> “Strictly speaking, we both are about a week old. We are actually toddlers.”  
>   
> “We aren’t,”  
>   
> Superboy said.  
>   
> “We are. Strictly speaking.” I smiled. “Our mental conditioning was a bit different. Superboy got all of the idealistic and cute parts of Superman, and I got all shit and cynics. That’s why I can swear, and he can’t.”  
>   
> “I _can_ swear.”  
>   
> “Really?” I looked at him. “I don’t think so.”  
>   
> He thought about it. He tried to say something.  
>   
> “Fluffy sheep donkeys!”  
>   
> Guys stared at him in shock. Superboy blushed.  
>   
> “Cuddles. Ducks. Socks!”  
>   
> He kept trying.  
>   
>   
> "Dudles!"  
>   
> I sighed.  
>   
> “I think our creator was really into PG-13. After all, Superman must be child-friendly.”  
>   
> There was existential horror in the kid’s eyes.  
>   
> “Someone revoked his _swearing privileges_? Even _Batman_ wouldn’t do that!”  
>   
> Evidently, if anything could truly scare Kid Flash, it was that. He looked horrified, revolted, and scared.  
>   
> “For real?! Come on, Superboy, buddy, call me a cunt.”  
>   
> He tried. He tried hard.  
>   
> He failed.  
>   
> He looked so confused, lost, and miserable while doing it that I couldn’t help it and broke into laugh.  
>   
> “Omega!” Superboy flared up. He finally understood. “You enchanted the air!”  
>   
> I nodded, still laughing, and dropped the spell. It did nothing special – only created a tiny membrane in a few centimeters from Superboy’s lips, that changed the properties of sound waves coming through it.  
>   
> I hugged him and roughed up the hair a bit.  
>   
> “Kuddles, eh?”  
>   
> I thought he would recoil, but the kid actually slapped me on the back. I guess affection to co-pod clone was mutual.  
>   
> How do they even call us? The same batch?  
>   
> “Dude!” Kid Flash anguished. “That was cruel!”  
>   
> “What, worried Flash will have your cursing privilege revoked?” Robin said. “Might be a good idea.”  
>   
> “Hey! Not whelming! Like, totally not whelming!”  
>   
> Hah. What’s the deal with the _whelming_?  
>   
> “So, you both are Superman’s clones?”  
>   
> “Pretty much. From different parents, though.”  
>   
> I wasn’t sure if I should tell that, but since half of the League knew it and voted to keep me regardless… what’s the point of keeping it secret?  
>   
> “Hm? Superboy’s data on gene sources were deleted. You know who’s yours?”  
>   
> I chuckled.  
>   
> “Yeh. The demon that came to kill or recruit me.”  
>   
> Robin chuckled uncomfortably.  
>   
> “Well. Look at it positively - at least you still have a family.”  
>   
> Did he just make an orphan joke?  
>   
> “I wanted to ask.”  
>   
> “Hah?”  
>   
> “If you have been ordered – really ordered – to kill us, would’ve you?”  
>   
> It was a hard question. Yes, probably. Probably yes.  
>   
> “Aqualad, if your king ordered you to do it on my place, would’ve you?”  
>   
> “His grace would have never ordered something like it.”  
>   
> I sighed. He really loved his mentor. Or was very well versed in evading the question.  
>   
> “If there was someone else on the throne. Rightfully.”  
>   
> He stared, thinking.  
>   
> “I… I am not ready to answer this question. I am sorry.”  
>   
> I nodded.  
>   
> “It’s fine.” It was a fair answer for a fair question. “Aqualad?”  
>   
> “Yes?”  
>   
> “Would you mind telling me more about the Atlantis? I afraid my knowledge of the subject was recently found wanting.”  
>   
> He raised his brow but nodded.  
>   
> “Sure.”


End file.
